


The Descent

by Gingerhermit



Series: The Descent [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, F/M, M/M, Post Star Trek: Into Darkness, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gingerhermit/pseuds/Gingerhermit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the stark clarity of hindsight, Nyota Uhura can pinpoint the exact moment when everything changed. ... It happened when their Captain’s eyes closed, and his heart ceased to beat. When James T. Kirk died, he took with him all the fragile pieces of her hopes for the future. He took with him Spock’s love for her, and replaced it with something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Descent

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first attempt at Spock/Kirk slash, and somehow it turned into a Spock/Uhura breakup fic instead. Don't worry, I fully intend on writing a sequel full of slashy goodness! Apparently I just had to get torturing poor Nyota out of my system first.

_The descent beckons as the ascent beckoned._

–The Descent, William Carlos Williams

 

* * *

  

In the stark clarity of hindsight, Nyota Uhura can pinpoint the exact moment when everything changed. It happened in the dark bowels of the Enterprise, behind an impenetrable wall of glass. It happened when the first tear that had perhaps ever tracked down the sharp lines of Spock’s face hit the floor. It happened when their Captain’s eyes closed, and his heart ceased to beat. When James T. Kirk died, he took with him all the fragile pieces of her hopes for the future. He took with him Spock’s love for her, and replaced it with something else.

She did not realize it at the time. As intelligent as she knew herself to be, all Nyota felt in that horrible moment was devastation.  She grieved for him, for Spock, for all of them. Kirk was her Captain too. He was her friend. He was completely infuriating at the best of times, but she could think of no one she respected more. She put her life in his restless hands every day, and with one last selfless act he had put that life and all of those hanging heavy on his shoulders before his own. In that moment, she loved him. She knew there was not a person aboard the Enterprise who did not.

Less than 24 hours later, when Kirk was instated on a hospital biobed and took his first shallow breaths on his own, her heart leapt. Her hand was on Spock’s arm, and her fingers bit into his skin. He did not seem to notice. His eyes were fixed upon the bed, where Kirk lay looking both fragile and indestructible.

She kept vigil with Spock for three days while Dr. McCoy buzzed around them like a harried bee.  For three days they both occupied the uncomfortable chairs lined against the wall, staring at the centerpiece in the room as though looking away for a moment might herald disaster. The only difference was that by the end of the second day, Nyota retired to her quarters to rest and find some semblance of normal sleep patterns. Despite her invitation, Spock stayed.

When she returned in the morning, he looked as though he had not moved a muscle all night. It was clear he had not slept, but also possible he had not blinked since she left him. She entertained the fancy that Spock was certain if he closed his eyes for even a moment, in the darkness between opening them again Kirk would cease to be real and that Kirk now only existed at all because he had willed it so fiercely.

She had already resolved never to tell Spock how much he had frightened her in the events that led them to this room. When Spock was single-mindedly beating Kahn to death despite her desperate pleas for his attention, for a brief but jarring moment she could barely differentiate Spock from Kahn. It was not the physical resemblance but the utter savagery that blurred the lines between them. This was a side of Spock she had only glimpsed once before and it terrified her somewhere deep in her bones to know that it was always there, buried deep beneath the confines of the Vulcan’s carefully constructed restraint.

By the end of the third day, Nyota’s duty called her away. She was needed by the Federation urgently, as their altercation with the Klingons had indeed stirred up a hornet’s nest. All of the best and brightest translators were summoned to help stave off the brink of war. Even so, she would not have left if Spock had asked her to stay. If he had so much as indicated for a moment that her presence beside him gave him strength, she would have stayed by his side for a thousand years.

He told her to leave, of course. Her duty required it. It was only logical.

She did not mention that Spock’s presence had been requested by the Federation as well, but he unilaterally ignored it. As far as Spock was concerned, or so he had tersely informed the terrified ensign tasked with delivering the summons, he was still the First Officer of the Enterprise and his duty was at his captain’s side until such a time as he was dismissed by the Captain himself.

Nyota did not go far. Every night, no matter how late it was or how exhausted she felt, she was drawn back to that hospital room. She always found Spock in the same position whether standing or sitting, his back straight and his eyes fixed upon the bed. There was usually a plate of food left untouched nearby.

When Bones confirmed her worries, that Spock had not so much as left the room or touched a bite of nourishment in over a week, she hovered at Spock’s side as he stood by the bed.

“Spock.” His gaze flickered in her direction as acknowledgement, but did not leave Kirk. “Please. You can’t do this to yourself. You have to eat. You have to rest. I’ll stay here with him.”

“I am perfectly adequate where I am, Nyota.”

“Leonard told me you’ve been starving yourself.”

“The Doctor is exaggerating. He of all people should know that it takes at least ninety earth days of deprivation for a Vulcan body to experience anything of the sort.” *

“Please,” she begged, her voice soft and her eyes pleading as she laid her hand on his arm. “I can’t stand to see you like this. Jim wouldn’t want it either. He’d want to you take care of yourself.”

“The Captain is in a comatose state. He is incapable of wanting anything at this juncture.”

“Do you think he’d be happy to wake up and find you like this?”

“It is not uncommon for a Vulcan to engage in long periods of deprivation in the pursuit of clarity. It cleanses the body and focuses the mind.”

Nyota was quiet for a long moment, her eyes fixed on Spock’s face. “This isn’t your fault.”

Spock’s face remained blank and expressionless, and he was silent for so long that Nyota nearly believed he would not answer her at all. When he finally did, his voice was quiet but measured. “I cannot help but conclude that is not the case.”

“Spock-“

“If I had truly mastered my fear in the face of certain failure, my faculties would have remained intact. I would have seen that the only logical choice was to preserve the core at all cost.”

“Even if you had, what could you have done? Your duty was where you were assigned, in that chair-“

“My duty is to the Captain,” Spock responded as tersely as she had ever heard him speak to her. It seemed nearly an afterthought that he added, “And to the preservation of the Enterprise and her crew.”

Nyota’s features softened as she studied Spock’s face for another long moment of silence. To anyone else, his expression would have appeared as cold and emotionless as ever. To Nyota, it was a study of misery. “You think it should have been you.”

“…Yes.”

Breathing in sharply, Nyota let her hand slip down his arm to his hand and curled her fingers around his. “You’d lay down your life for all of us in a heartbeat. I know that. He knows that.”

“And yet I find that is not enough.”

Nyota stood with him for a long time after that, in silence. Their fingers were twined together but his mind had never been further from her. She knew better than to entreat him further, because he would not bend in his vigil of penance. Spock was the most stubborn creature she had ever met. It was part of what she loved about him.

 

* * *

 

Over one year passed, and everything should have returned to normal. Kirk had reclaimed his rightful throne on the bridge, and the Enterprise was back in the vast unknown of space where she belonged. All the pixels were back in place, and by all rights the picture should have shifted back to its original focus. Instead, it achieved another formation entirely.

The first symptoms that everything had changed forever were small at first, barely noticeable and easily explained away. For one, Spock’s mind was completely closed to Nyota. In the past, during quiet nights they would often lay together fully clothed but hearts bare. She would curl against his chest, her head tucked under his chin and her hand draped over his side where she felt his heartbeat. In those moments, she would feel his consciousness on the edge of her own, reaching out to her. It was never a true mind meld, but she could feel his affection and content settling over her like a warm blanket. It was as though the door to his inner self was left open just a crack, for her and her alone to peer through in amazement.

Now the door was not just shut tightly. It was locked and barred. They still shared quiet moments, even intimate ones. But all the while, there was never the slightest crack in the door. His thoughts had never been further from her, and she foolishly believed this was a passing turbulence. She was still convinced that though his mind was elsewhere, his heart was still hers.

The second change was that Spock became Kirk’s shadow. There was never a moment on duty that the first officer was not haunting his captain’s steps, glued to his side both on the ship and off. It did not trouble Nyota at first, because she thought she understood the cause. Spock would not let his captain sacrifice himself again, and the only way to ensure that was to guard his every movement carefully. The only predictable aspect of Captain Kirk was that he was the most intensely unpredictable personality she had ever encountered.

Nyota was initially convinced that the mercurial Kirk would tire of this behavior quickly. It would certainly not be long before he bristled and sent Spock away, insisting that he was a grown man and did not need a babysitter. She was surprised, however, when Kirk not only did not tire of his brooding shadow but seemed to welcome it. As time passed, Kirk even seemed to grow to expect it. The very few times when he turned his head and did not find Spock standing next to him, the captain’s eyes immediately swept the area until they found his first officer wherever he had wandered. It was like a silent call, and Spock would return to his place beside Kirk within the minute.

The quiet moments between the chaos that used to belong to her began to slip away as well. These were always tiny prizes- a few minutes alone in the lift, on a planet, or during meals. It was in these scant minutes that she used to steal a touch or a glance that would ground her for the rest of the day. Now, these moments were almost always spent with Spock in quiet conversation with his captain, their heads bowed and faces turned towards each other.

All of this she could have stomached, had it only occurred while they were on duty and not begun to bleed into their personal time. The first encroachment began mildly, in the form of a weekly chess match in the Captain’s quarters. These epic tournaments often ran long into the night (or its equivalent during their off shift). Nyota even found it amusing that Kirk would hold the delusion that he could ever beat a Vulcan in the holy shrine of logical strategy. It took Kirk exactly three months and five days to carve out his first victory, which incensed Spock enough that their engagements became more frequent.

By seven months into their voyage, Spock took his meals in the Captain’s quarters daily. Nyota was lucky to salvage a few off-shifts a month alone with him, and even those began to feel as though it were a chore that Spock checked off on his list. His body was with Nyota, but little else.

She longed for the times during the Enterprise’s first voyage, when Spock was still reeling from the loss of his planet and his beloved mother. Instead of pushing her away, he had drawn her close and drawn strength from their relationship. In her giddier and more foolish moments she would find herself researching Vulcan marriage bonds. Those days had never seemed more far away.

When Nyota finally snapped, it was in the least appropriate place possible. She could not even put her finger on what finally did it. Spock and Kirk were standing by a console in the bridge, examining the specifications of the newest planet the Enterprise had encountered. The Captain’s laugh carried through the room, rich and warm. When she glanced over, the very smallest corner of Spock’s mouth was turned up.

Before she knew what she had decided, her feet where carrying her over to them with fast, sure strides.

“Commander Spock.” His gaze snapped towards her, the tone of her voice commanding attention. Kirk immediately began studying the maps hovering before them as though they were the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Kirk clearly knew that tone in a woman’s voice by heart, although Spock remained willfully ignorant.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“I request your presence after our shift at 22:00.”

Spock turned away from her easily. “I will have to defer, I have a previous engagement.”

Nyota’s jaw tightened, as well as her voice. “Let me rephrase. You _ _will_ _ join me for dinner. 2200.”

The sharp edge to her voice attracted Kirk’s attention at last, although he had clearly been listening the entire time. “You know, I just remembered I promised to meet Bones in sickbay at 2200. Something about teaching me to recognize mind controlling plantlife before I try to marry a tree again.”

“I see.” Spock inclined his head towards his captain, and Kirk clapped him on the arm heartily.

“Hey, never say a Kirk stood in the way of True Love.”

It was the tone of his voice that caught her. On the surface, it was cheerful and full of amusement. But it was hollow. It did not reach to Kirk’s eyes, or match the broad smile pasted on his face. Nyota had seen her captain bluff his way out of impossible situations nearly a hundred times. He was bluffing now.

It hit her like a bucket of cold water.

Her jaw clenched, she merely repeated, “My quarters. 2200.” She kept her head high as she walked away, her face blank as she confidently strode across the bridge and into the lift. Only when it was halfway down did she slam her hand against the brake.

A wounded sound escaped her as she sunk down to the floor, the heels of her hands pressed hard into her eyes. How could she have been so stupid? So blind? Spock’s behavior this past year and a half could easily be chalked off to his obsessive sense of duty, to the burden of his failure and regret. All of this, she understood. All of this she could explain.

What she could not explain was James T. Kirk. She could not explain why instead of pushing Spock’s attentions away, he pulled him closer. Jim had lied, but not just about meeting with Bones. He did not want Spock to leave his side. He did not want Spock to meet with her. He did not want Spock to love her. In fact, from look that flashed in his eyes he may very well have fiercely hated the idea.

The image came to her unbidden and unwelcome, of Kirk draped over Spock’s chest as she once had been, his face buried in the Vulcan’s neck and his hand pressed over his heart. It made her throat burn and her stomach twist in on itself. For several excruciating moments, she was certain it was reality and not just a wild horror. It had been happening all along, under her nose and behind her back, and she was a fool.

She felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Pinching her eyes shut tightly, she forced herself to meditate silently as Spock had once taught her, to push aside the hurricane of emotion and focus on cold logic. She needed to focus on facts and reality as the only road to truth.

Once she calmed herself, the truth she was left with was that even absent of all else, Spock was an honest man. In that honesty was a fierce loyalty. Spock would not have continued to pursue a relationship with her if he had already found one elsewhere. He simply would have ended it. It was only logical.

This left only one alternative. Spock either did not know, or had not yet allowed himself to realize what was really happening. Denial was a powerful tool, especially to one who could not lie. If only she could have learned to wield it half as powerfully, she would not have found herself curled up on the floor of a lift crying like a jilted teenager.

 

* * *

 

Before Spock arrived at her quarters, Nyota had already been there for an hour. She was surprised there was not a track worn into the carpet where she had paced restlessly back and forth. There was food laid out on the table, but the atmosphere was not decadent or romantic. The spread was simple, even Spartan. It would most likely not even be touched. It was a prop only, setting the scene for her final stand.

When Spock arrived, he still did not seem to fully grasp the gravity of the situation. He was cordial, even dropping a kiss to the top of her head before sitting down to eat. It was a full minute before he looked up from his plate, and realized the woman sitting across the table from him had not touched hers. Nyota was instead staring at him intently, as though experimenting with whether one could burn a hole through someone with their eyes alone.

Spock set down his utensils, and folded his hands in his lap. “It appears you have something you wish to discuss.”

Biting back a sarcastic remark, she merely swallowed the bitterness that she knew would not be helpful now. A long moment passed before she finally spoke, and then her own quiet words surprised her. “Do you love me, Spock?”

A shocked Vulcan is a silent one, and this shocked Vulcan was silent for exactly six minutes and fifteen seconds. “I find I do not know how to answer your question.”

“Truthfully, Spock!” Her voice was rising now, sharp and taunt, and she felt her eyes begin to sting despite her best efforts. “It’s a simple question! Do you love me? Did you ever love me?”

“Those are two different questions.”

“Goddamn it!” Her carefully sculpted control cracked and she stood up from the table, pushing her chair back so violently it clattered back. Thankfully her back was to him by the time the water brimming in her eyes spilled over, and she wiped them angrily with the back of her hand as she stared out the tiny window in the side of the ship. She was not sure how much time genuinely passed before she felt him behind her, his body tense even as his hands rested gently on her shoulders.

“Nyota.”

“Please, Spock.” She hated the pleading tone in her voice and the coarseness of her emotion, but she could not fight it off now. It ran too deep. “Just tell me the truth.”

“It is not easy for me to define-“ Spock began, but was cut off by Nyota who repeated the question in Vulcan. She knew that Spock frequently expressed irritation with the lack of precision in the English language. She would not let him hide within its shadowy confines now.

“ _Am I in possession of your love?”_ She chose her words carefully so that there could be no misunderstanding the context. *

If Spock was thrown by her shift in language, he did not show it. There was a time when they had made a game of switching to as many different languages as possible mid-conversation, and Nyota almost always won. When Spock spoke again, his voice was softer and gentler, but the Vulcan words chosen carefully were not kind. _“You were at one time.”_

“I was.” The words were bitter in her mouth. His use of the past-tense was not lost on her.

“Yes.”

“But not anymore.”

She could feel him at the edge of her consciousness again, for the first time in over a year. Instead of being relieved, even overjoyed, she felt only numb. Spock was tense and confused. But he knew the truth, and in that instant she felt it so acutely that it took her breath away.

“No.”

“Get out.” Her voice was not as hollow as she felt inside. It was cracked and furious.

“Nyota-“

“Just get out!” She stood her ground, only turning back when he was nearly at the door. Her next question nearly chased him through it. “Do you love him?”

He froze, his posture if anything even tenser than before. “Please clarify.”

“Jim. Do you love Jim?”

When he turned back to look at her his face was a mask of stone, but his eyes were clouded with confusion. “I find your use of the term unclear. Did you intend to define love in the romantic context, or-“

“Don’t bullshit me Spock! Don’t you dare,” she nearly growled, before repeating the same question once more in Vulcan. “ _Is our captain the object of your love?”_

Nyota had never seen Spock look so uncomfortable, shifting his weight from one foot to the other with his brow intensely furrowed. She was certain he would not answer her but when he did, the answer surprised them both. “It is possible.”

This time, she did not have to tell him to leave. He let himself out without another word, and then he was gone.

 

* * *

 

_“For what we cannot accomplish, what is denied to love, what we have lost in the anticipation— a descent follows, endless and indestructible.”_

–The Descent, William Carlos Williams

 

**Author's Note:**

> * Author’s Notes:
> 
> 1\. I have absolutely no idea how long it’s actually supposed to take a Vulcan to starve to death. This is just me employing an author’s license to make shit up at random. If you happen to be privy to this information (which I couldn’t find anywhere on the great internets), please do tell and I will correct it.
> 
> 2\. I’m not nearly informed nor foolish enough to even attempt to write a single sentence in Vulcan, so any dialogue intended to be spoken as such is denoted in italics.


End file.
